Chapter 2

Andrew quickly decided that his best bet was to accept Jacqueline’s offer and take control of the slaver and her holdings. In minutes, Jacqueline related the password to her security programs and entered Andrew’s name as the System Administrator. She knew she could recover any damage Andrew did to her system once she had control back.

After he entered his own unique password, overwriting hers, he eliminated her administrator level access, deleting her retinal scan, and saved her password and security preferences file to a jump drive. He then trashed all her security privileges, leaving her only a basic access to the system.

She knew its capabilities, but without authorizations, she only had a user-level read-only access. Her retinal-scan had been deleted. After rebooting the system, he had her attempt to gain access to the locked shipping container office and was satisfied when her access was denied.

This was a concern to Jacqueline but she knew that dead or alive, Andrew could grant her access again so she hid her concerns behind an exterior demeanor of surprise that Andrew knew the first thing about computers. Andrew ignored her attempts to placate him but she was also certain that with enough praise and encouragement, she’d be able to slide under his defenses before he knew it. She’d done so quite a few times with many other confident men.

Now it was time to gather Deborah and introduce her life as a ‘Term’. Despite herself, Jacqueline resisted being caged; but being stronger and free to move, it was a matter of a few minutes for Andrew to successfully strip and cage the one-time slaver.

He took the opportunity to inspect his first slave and was rewarded by her seemingly willing responses once the chains and padlocks secured the female in the cage. Her breasts were full, maybe a C-cup, and showed little sagging. Tiny dark areola and taut dark nipples popped-out when tweaked. Or maybe it was the breeze drifting by that hardened the stiff nubbins.

A finger swipe between the swollen lips of her cunt told a familiar tale. This bitch was literally dripping. She either was a latent submissive or was getting off on being naked and used by a man despite being a self-confessed lesbian.

Slamming the cage door shut and placing another padlock on the outside hasp, he turned to walk back to the entrance, placing the keys in his pocket.

“I’ll see you later, slave. Maybe I’ll wait a couple of days like you treated that girl in the entryway?” He said, walking away.

“Don’t leave me alone, Master. I can make it to your benefit to care for me,” she hollered towards his back.

“Okay, think about ways that you can be worthwhile to me, then. See you later.”

I could still hear her yelling and crying as I turned the corner and came back upon the tortured naked female. Taking pity on her now that I had time to spare, I unlocked the padlocks that held her collar and feet to the tunnel wall. It seemed all Jacqueline’s padlocks were keyed-alike. Nice feature if you weren’t too worried about actual security - as Jacqueline must have been prone to neglect.

The naked girl was beyond caring about anything except her release. She literally collapsed onto me when released. Despite her stench, I carried her to the entrance and upstairs in the farmhouse. The kitchen had a fridge with several juices inside. I opened a liter bottle of apple juice and slowly began to feed it to the naked girl. She drank it too fast and started to retch before I jerked it away from her mouth.

Finding a tub in the ground floor bathroom, I half-filled it with warm water and laid the naked woman into it.

“Thank you Master. May I have another drink, please?”

I let her think I was ignoring her question because I refused to be rushed. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Sharon, Master. Sharon Moore, Sir.”

I retrieved the juice - she hadn’t moved at all while I was gone - and fed her another sip before telling her why I seemed to have ignored her request.

“There is no ‘I’ or ‘me’ in a slave’s vocabulary.” At least that is what the stories that I have read, dictated. “When asking something for yourself, your question should have been, ‘May your slave have another drink, please?”

“May your slave have another drink, master?” Came her reply.

“Sure, but a couple of swallows at a time, or it will all come back up.”

I watched her take a short drink, holding the plastic bottle as if her very existence depended upon it.

After she’d taken a few careful sips, I asked her how long she had been Jacqueline’s slave.

“Thank you, sir. This slave has been here for months, she guesses. Your slave is not exactly sure of the dates but she was captured on the 17th of May in Columbia, Missouri. It was probably two days later that she arrived here along with five other girls, all from Missouri.”

I could see that Sharon was an intelligent woman by the way she’d seemingly effortlessly slipped into the use of the third person when talking about herself. I also quickly realized it’d be more efficient just to allow her to speak in the first person when she wasn’t asking for something.

“When you’re not begging for a favor, you may refer to yourself as ‘I’ or ‘me’,” I told her. I wanted to see if she could fathom the distinction I was offering.

“Yes, master, thank you master,” she immediately replied.

I also thought about her knowing the exact date of her capture. It had probably been something she’d focused on many times since her arrival as a way of maintaining her sanity.

“Well, today is October 11th, so that makes it about five months. How old are you?”

“I am twenty three, sir. My daddy got me my breast enhancement as a college graduation present. A lot of good that did me. The bastards that captured me said that my rack was the reason they noticed me. They were disappointed when they discovered the implants, but it didn’t seem to matter once they sold me to Mistress Jacqueline. The first couple of weeks were hardest, but once I genuinely submitted to them, it got better. Then I stumbled carrying Mistress’ cash to the shipping container and I was punished, chained to the tunnel for a long time, I guess.”

“Okay, enough for now, Sharon. I’ll protect you from Jacqueline and her cohorts, but your ownership has changed. You’re now mine. Are you going to be a problem for me?”

“No, Master. I will do whatever you ask. My body is yours. I will always do my best to make myself worthy of being yours but...”

She paused for a moment. It sounded like she was trying to figure out how to phrase a question. “Please don’t whip this slave more than she deserves, master. That was always the hardest part about being Mistress’ slave. She would whip this slave for no real reason at all. This slave promises she’ll never intentionally disobey you and give you reason to punish her as harshly as Mistress did,” she begged. It sounded heartfelt and completely authentic, unlike Jacqueline’s words.

She’d also just proved she understood the challenge I’d set for her to save her use of the third person for when she was begging.

“That’s easy for you to say now slave - not tied, free of shackles, resting in a warm tub. We’ll just have to see how you behave when we go back inside. Now clean yourself up and shampoo your hair. After you are dried off, we have to collect my former wife and introduce her to her own new life as a slave. Will you help me with her?” I asked.

I was issuing yet another challenge for Sharon. I was asking for her implicit help in subjugating my ex wife. I wanted to find out if Sharon had been completely indoctrinated into her own new life or if she was simply telling me what she thought I wanted to hear.

“Yes, Master. I can hardly walk, but I know most of the procedures downstairs. I’ll help any way I can.” She replied.

She already sounded more alive than dead just from the small amount of juice and what she had to consider ‘pampering’ she’d received from me. I took her answer as a ‘maybe’. She’d said she’d help in any way she could. She hadn’t said she’d enjoy it. I decided I’d reserve judgement on the matter for now.

After combing out her hair and rearranging the missing clumps, she shakily stood up in the tub and spoke again. “Thank you again, Master. May I finish off the juice bottle?”

“It’s all yours. Let’s go back to the kitchen and see if you can get something else made for us to eat.”

I looked through the cabinets and sent her to the fridge to see what she could use from there. She opened a drawer and saw the dinnerware. “Master, there are knives in here. I shouldn’t be allowed to get to them.”

“That’s the problem with trust, slave. I have got to trust someone now. I can’t do this all alone. Either I can trust you to do the right thing by me, or I have to treat you like the rest of them. You make the call. What’s it going to be, Sharon?”

“I don’t deserve to be free, master. I have screwed up everything in my life. Yeah, I got a degree in American Literature. Wow, like that is going to make me rich. I fucked up getting a MRS degree too by hanging onto a deadbeat jock. When he blew out his knee, his true colors came out. I barely escaped the altar on that one, but at least I wasn’t saddled with him in the end. My own vanity resulted in me being targeted for slavery. Now I belong to you. Things are looking up for the first time in a long while. I trust you to treat me right.”

“Okay, you have earned knife access. Don’t abuse it though.”

“Thank you master. I’ll set the table for you.”

“For two. You’ll be eating with me.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master!” Her gratitude seemed palpable.

I opened the fridge, changed my mind and went to the deep-freeze in the pantry. Inside I found and retrieved two steaks. I immediately noticed that the vegetable crate next to it held two large potatoes. I retrieved them and took them to the counter.

“Make a salad if you can find some lettuce.”

“There is a bag already mixed on the second shelf of the fridge, Master,” she replied. That was to me an important discovery about Sharon. It showed me how perceptive she could be. I’d only had the fridge door open for a few moments.

“Fine. I’ll throw these steaks in the microwave to thaw.” After setting the thaw cycle, I washed the potatoes and placed them in a plastic bag.

Taking the partially thawed steaks out, I dropped them into a cast iron skillet on the stove and began frying them. The potatoes went into the microwave, still in the plastic bag. I set the microwave to run for ten minutes and soon the air in the kitchen smelled like food was being prepared.

The naked woman sat at the table and chewed on her salad carefully, savoring each bite. I joined her, getting up to flip the steaks every now and then. I got butter and other condiments from the cabinet and fridge before bringing them to the table. When the microwave ‘dinged’, I plated the steaks and baked potatoes.

We both enjoyed our meal in relative silence. Sharon cleaned her plate and gnawed at the bone, getting the last of the meat cooked there. Then she spotted a package of Oreo double-stuffed cookies on the counter. I could tell she wanted them.

“What would you do to earn a few of them?” I asked.

“Anything you wanted, master.” She replied.

“Okay. I’ll make it a simple exercise routine. Stand up and face the counter.” When she stood there, I continued. “Each time you bend over and touch your toes, you can have one.”

She quickly bent over flashing me her booty and exposed peach between her thighs when bent over. She quickly repeated the exercise claiming another cookie.

“Hey, pass me one every now and then.” I ordered.

She touched her toes a third time and grabbed two cookies, turning to face me and placing one of them in my outstretched hand. Then she touched her toes while chewing her third cookie, already reaching for another.

“Got any milk?” I asked.

She stopped. I could see the fact that she had been ‘mooning me’ suddenly occurred to her. She turned and faced me as a deep blush spread up her neck and covered her face. She chewed a mouth full of cookies and placed her hands on her hips. Struggling to swallow, she managed to empty most of her mouthful before she surprised me by cupping her breasts and saying, “Nope, fresh out, boss.” Then started to laugh, spewing crumbs from her mouth until her hand blocked any more from escaping. “Let me check the refrigerator, master.” She mumbled. “Cold milk is better, anyway.”